


Delitoonz Drabbles

by Sauou



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Cuddles, Delitoonz - Freeform, Domestic, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Rain, Sleep, daddy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-15 19:02:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 9,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7234762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauou/pseuds/Sauou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some random, unconnected Delitoonz drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Starburst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For f1zzybutt on tumblr.  
> 

Jonathan’s head is laying half on his pillow and half on the mattress, drool sticks his face fast to the sheets and light snores escape from him as he snuggles deeper into the warm that surrounds him.

His left arm lays across Luke’s back and shoulders, and is a heavy and yet comforting weight. Hours have passed, but even now in the deepest echoes of sleep, he still holds on.

The bed is soft and easy to sink into, and sink they do, far into the edges of the dreaming world. Though Luke struggles and tries to groan himself awake.

He is aware of his surroundings in that vague, fractured sense of being not-quite connected to the world, stuck between the edges of sleep and waking. But his body isn’t responding to any his mental demands, and the simple movement of his chest as he breathes is an effort too hard to interrupt.

“If you make coffee I’ll start breakfast,” Luke grumbles under his breath but Jonathan just groans and buries his head deeper into the pillow.

“I’ll .. coffee..” Luke tries again, but the thought drifts away from him as he falls back into sleep, too comfortable to rise with the weight of the bed dragging him down into an abyss of pleasant dreams. 

The warmth of Jonathan draped over him is a wall in his dreams that traps the sunlight far down inside of him, and fills him.

He is weary, but happy. And slumbers on.

.

The house was aged and worn down in parts, the paint just beginning to peel off the front windows and sliding. But well-cared for, the lawn was clean and maintained, the cobwebs all brushed away, and the pale curtains in the window spoke of fragments of love. 

Out in the back were a few wicker chairs, stacked neatly to the side and beneath a layer of leaves and tree debris, the fibers that held the weaving together long since loosened and starting to break.

And on cold windy days like the one this morning was quickly turning into, they usually slept pressed close together, like pups in the nest, side by side beneath the warm comfort of a hand-me-down quilt that had seen more years than either boy had known.

The quilt was a present from Jonathan’s grandmother on his tenth birthday (and a gift to his grandmother on her birthday, as she had explained during the gift giving), and has since became something of a lifeline. 

A comfort that he carries with him, through all stages of life. From race car bed, to bunk-bed, to finally living on his own with Luke.

(The nights he and Luke stayed up until four in the morning, watching scary movies and laughing at plot holes, fingers sticky with grease and popcorn, safe and warm snuggled together beneath the quilt.)

The sun rises, as it always does, on yet another day, warming the bed from the sheets through to the mattress by it’s perch in the window above their bed.

Luke blinks the dreams away, tossing the blankets aside as he sits up in an empty bed. The cover is warm but beneath the sheets where Jonathan was laying is now only cold fabric.

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and slides across the mattress, blankets tumbling to the ground as he stumbles and tries to find his feet.

.

The kitchen is silent and still, the window over the sink has been cracked open and a faint breeze drifting over the room is the only sign of movement.

Pale sunlight spills across the counter and sink, and washes over the floor.

The strong smell of coffee boiling in the pot rises and coats the floors, the walls, and guides Luke’s feet straight to the cupboard door. There are too many cups to count, but he pulls out his favorite: a red mug with black stripes.

Jonathan’s prized cup is already sitting on the sink, pearl blue sides covered in stains. The handwritten scribbles of “ _Delirious Out Of My Mind_ ” barely legible beneath the dried coffee.

Luke takes his share from the pot, and turns the machine off.

He is standing at the counter, taking slow slips from his mug and savoring the taste, wearing just a loose pair of boxers that sag at his waist from overuse and age.

The sun is blinding his eyes, so he closes them and sags forward, pressing his hips into the cold metal of the sink’s edge. It’s a sharp contrast to the heat on his stomach and chest, and he breathes soft and even. Deeply, the world is still around him.

.

The muffled giggles draw him out of the kitchen and down the hall where he finds Jonathan hunched over at the computer. The morning is just barely beginning to light up the room, the glow from the monitor washes over Jon’s face as he grins and leans closer.

A basket of laundry is laying on the floor beside him, handle cracked and long since broken off, clothes still bundled up in knots from their tumble through the dryer.

Luke leans against the doorway and finishes the last of his coffee.

Jonathan is talking up a storm and having the time of his life, well into full on Delirious-mode. As Luke walks closer to the laundry basket, empty cup hanging loosely from his fingers, he can see the ear to ear grin that splits Jon’s cheeks and lights up his face.

He has to stop for a moment, just to stare.

Smiling softly to himself as Jon laughs, so caught up in the sight and sound that Luke doesn’t realize he’s leaning closer until his hip hits the desk and Delirious looks up, bright eyes widening with happiness as he sees Luke.

Luke chuckles so low under his breath that the recording mic can’t pick it up, but his ribs shake with silent laughter as he bends over to kiss the top of Jonathan’s head. The other boy’s hair is damp and still slightly fragrant with shampoo.

Luke grins softly against the locks of hair, and lets his nose run across the top of Jon’s head as he bends down until he’s right there, face to face with the split grin, and whispers as gently as he can.

“You couldn’t even finish putting them away?” And leaves with a quick kiss that just touches Jon’s lips, is there and gone.

Luke stands up, and sets the mug on the desk, carefully, and finally manages to see what the chair was obscuring from him before; Jonathan’s bare ass, naked as the day and sitting comfortable in the computer chair.

He rolls his eyes and suppresses a sigh as he turns to get the laundry basket and, sure enough, there’s the underwear Jon was wearing last night sitting, clean as can be, on the top of the pile.

He picks up the basket and holds the briefs with his left hand and looks sideways at Jon. At Jon’s wiggling suggestive eyebrows and blatant glance down at his own crotch and back up again.

Luke huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes, throwing the underwear Jonathan’s still-beaming face as he walks out the door, the basket balanced on his hips.

Jonathan laughs so hard and loud, that Luke can hear the rest of their friends on the other side of the call asking “ _What happened?”_ even though he’s already halfway down the hall and on his way back to their bedroom.

.

Luke drops the laundry basket right on top of the unmade bed, and stares longingly at the tangled mess the sheets have become. For the briefest of moments his head entertains the notion of just crawling back into the nest of blankets and taking a long nap.

He upends the basket and lets the clothes spill out and fall where they may. Shirts and socks, pants and underwear. Leisurely folding and sorting through the jumble.

There is a song lingering in the corners of his mind, and he hums the tune under his breath (where words are only slightly off-key and harder to catch).

Late afternoon strikes like a warning. The sun is high in the sky and bakes the room in waves of heat until Luke is standing there, neat piles of fabric and apparel all tidied up and set aside.

He is warmed by the sun and the heat fills him up and travels down, down, followed closely by a languid hand, to warm his empty belly.

And he is rubbing his stomach, and thinking of breakfast, when the unmistakable aroma and sound of bacon in the pan hits him and he staggers on his feet.

Already turning and out the bedroom door.

.

The scent is stronger in the hallway, and almost overpowering in the kitchen where Jonathan is standing, bare-chested but finally wearing his underwear, at the stove. Wooden spatula clenched tightly in one hand, the pan’s lid acting as a shield in the the other.

And Jon is so focused on not getting burnt by the jumping grease that he doesn’t notice Luke at all until the other man is standing there right beside him, almost towering he is so close as he leans in and breathes softly across the outline of Jon’s ear.

Amused, Luke chuckles. “Why didn’t you just put a shirt on?”

Jon spins on his toes, almost smacking Luke right on the nose with the spatula he throws it so fast across the room.

But Luke is already ducking and dancing away, laughing like a sprite as Jon swears at him and waves the pan’s lid threateningly.

“You took the laundry basket!” Jonathan accuses. “What else was I supposed to do?”

Luke is still laughing as he pulls open a drawer and takes out two dish towels, then throws them back at Jon.

Who grabs them with one hand, bewildered. Wondering aloud, “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” as he sets the lid back down on the still sizzling pan and shakes out the tiny towels.

“Wear them,” Luke replies, already bent down and digging through the fridge, pulling out eggs and butter, and a few potatoes.

Jonathan’s look could chill ice, but instead of continuing to wear it, Jon just shrugs and laughs too. Puffing out his chest as he turns back to the stove and begins to balance the dish towels on his chest. One over each nipple.

He’s nearly got them positioned perfectly by the time Luke returns to his side with a second pan and the rest of breakfast.

And the kiss that warms Jon’s lips and begins to curl his toes, also disturbs his concentration and makes him drop the two towels to the floor.

“You fiend!” Jonathan cries and crosses his arms over his chest, as if he was ashamed of being half-naked.

Luke just laughs at him, and goes back to cooking.

“You could just go get a shirt, you know..?” He offers, but his advice falls on deaf ears. Jon is too focused on wearing the dish cloths now, to listen.

.

The dishes are stacked in the sink, filthy and still covered with bits of food, pans and silverware and all.

The kitchen is a complete mess; grease everywhere at the stove, flour from the pancakes spread across half a wall and part of the floor. And a piece of toast is still stuck to the ceiling.

But they’re both in the living room now, curled up side by side on the couch and warm beneath Jon’s quilt. Cuddling together and watching the late-afternoon soap operas.

“I can’t believe you like this stuff,” Luke whispers nuzzled against Jon’s hair, massaging slow circles into the other boy’s hips with his left hand.

“Not while Fernado’s talking!” Jonathan shushes him and swats away at Luke’s hand until it stops moving and distracting him from the big onscreen moment.

Luke laughs, and lets his head drift, down, and further down still. Heavy with sleep and lulled to dreaming by the monotone voices of Jonathan’s show.

His breathing is steady and even already, his nose burrows deep into the crook of Jon’s neck, and stays there.

At home.

.


	2. Rain

11:45pm, and on the long road back home from dinner with the family. The streets dark and empty, headlights glimmer across the pools of water that coat the road, casting bright lines against the darkness.

They drive through a small town, pulling up at a deserted light, the gas station across from it bare and haunted. Windows black and barred, parking lot empty.

From the stoplights an eerie shadow forms over the pavement, reflections of red and green like an inverted universe and the rain is endless. Is a constant pressure against the world, cooling it and covering the earth.

Droplets pitter patter and slip through the open window as Jonathan stretches his feet out with a groan, and rests them outside the door. The high speed of the moving car quickly cooling the sweat from between his toes, the rain tingling his skin as it darts over him.

He has been standing all day, walking and talking and just being with their gathered families for an early Thanksgiving dinner. It was a long, warm, happy day.

The actual event isn’t until tomorrow but, for today everyone gathered. Plenty of time for aunts and uncles and cousins and friends of friends to group together and share this moment. Families and families and so much noise, so many people talking and laughing and sharing stories all at once you could start talking to one person and end up in three different conversations all at once.

Luke, beside him in the car now, driving them home. The breeze from the open windows ruffling through the top two unbuttoned spots on his shirt, the pale glimmer of his chest against the night like a light.

Tomorrow they will make a simple dinner, maybe roast a chicken and have potatoes, nothing like the extravagant feast that awaited them this night. It will be a simple, quiet affair. A peaceful night with just the two of them, lounging together on the couch.

Luke leans his arm out the window and settles back in the seat, the wind rustles over his clothes and through his hair. His other arm rests across the divider between their seats, lazy. Relaxed.

Jonathan stretches out, his arm wraps around the back of the seat, drapes there. His back presses into the corner of console and chair and he shifts until the position is comfortable. Dropping his weight into the seat until he is sitting almost sideways.

His arm reaches out, rests on top of Luke’s, and he closes his eyes. Falling into sleep, though it was never very far away.

The radio is turned down low, only whispered mutters of beats soothing through the air.

Thrum, thrum of the tires over the road and the night seems to go on forever.


	3. Sunday Morning

The light is soft, is pure gold through the window and warms Jonathan through his shirt and sweater as he sits on the church bench and waits for the service to begin.

Everyone is gathered in the lobby outside, talking and socializing, and generally making such a noisy mess of themselves that he had to slip away and take an early seat by himself. Leaning against the windowsill on the last row of the last pew, his hands and arms are so warm from the light that he can barely fend off the sleep.

He reaches in the pocket of his sweater and pulls out his game (though he swore to his mother that he wouldn’t actually play it during the service). The volume is turned down low and there’s still a half hour before anything is supposed to begin, so he turns it on and buries himself in his playing.

He doesn’t notice Luke at first.

Not when the other boy sits down next to him, or leans close to quietly watch him play. Not even when Luke huffs with silent laughter as Jon misses an easy jump and glares at the game as if it could be frightened. He scrowls with full force, but relents and then tries again.

Luke is having a great time watching Jonathan play, he has such an open and expressive face that you don’t even need to look at his hands to know what he’s doing.

Luke sighs, and gently touches a lock of hair that’s fallen in front of Jon’s, and brushes it to the side. His touch is so gentle, he’s almost not even there. But still Jonathan starts as he finally realizes Luke is sitting beside him.

“You came early,” Luke whispers, ingrained as the habit is in him not to speak too loudly on the pew, though the service still has not yet begun.

“Mom had to talk to somebody about something, I don’t know what,” Jon mutters. Then grins at him with abandon. “Have you seen this yet? It’s amazing!”

His words excited, but subdued as he keeps his voice down and moves the handheld closer to Luke, so he can see better.

“I was watching,” Luke admits. “For awhile now.” But holds Jonathan’s hands, and through them the game, gently in his lap.

The angle is awkward, the way his hands are being pulled, so instead of taking them away Jon leans in further until he is nearly drapped across Luke. The tips of his hair brush under Luke’s nose, who merely huffs with amusement and gently blows at the strands tickling him there.

“Let me show you,” Jon repeats, and starts up the game again. His fingers caught in the loose embrace of Luke’s own hands.

“I saw,” Luke reminds him, smiling against the back of Jon’s head. But he stays where he is and lets the other boy play.

He is warm, here in this spot of light where the sun comes in lingering caresses and weighs down his eyelids. With Jonathan laying across him, heavy against his chest and stomach. Warm in his arms and so soft, Jon’s skin against his own as he holds him.

Sleep is a pressure he can’t deny, it catches him and wraps him up in the sweet scent of Jonathan’s shampoo. The gentle nudge against his stomach as Jon burrows into him, like he is a pillow and made to touched like this.

He closes his eyes and presses his lips to the back of Jon’s head. Kissing him, just once, before his eyes turn to unmovable lead.

A smile is woven so throughly on Jonathan’s face he can’t remember any other expression, any other feeling than this. Being here, being held so warm and safe, with Luke.

Luke’s arms wrapped around his own, growing heavy as the boy falls further into sleep. The texture of Luke’s skin as he presses into him, the smell of him in these, just for Sunday clothes. He wants no other thing, needs nothing else in this world.

Nothing but this.


	4. Daddy

Marcel drops into the third plastic chair from the right. “Man, I can’t believe we’re stranded here now! The next flight doesn’t leave until tomorrow! I’m gonna die here alone with no children to remember me by!”

Delirious laughs and sits next to him on the bench, Moo and Mini dropping their luggage behind him.

“You’re so melodramatic, geeze.” Mini says and slouches over the airport’s chair.

“Cut a guy some slack,” Luke teases. “A man can’t help when he’s not fertile.” Laughing and dodging Marcel’s backpack when its angrily thrown at him.

“Hey Delirious,” Moo asks. “Didn’t your dad use to work at an airline? Maybe he can help us out or something?”

“That’s a good idea,” Marcel cries and tugs on Delirious’ jacket. “Call him! Call your dad!”

“Fine, fine!” Delirious laughs and waves off Marcel. “I’ll see if he can help us out any..”

Pulls out his phone and, with a firm voice commands, “Siri, call dad.”

A soft beep, then the electonic confirms cheerfully “Calling Daddy.”

“Wait, no-!” Delirious cries but Luke’s phone is already ringing.

A bead of sweat rolls down his neck when Moo asks,“ Aren’t you going to answer that?”


	5. Fairytale

On the stroke of midnight on a clear summer’s eve, when Cartoonz was almost ten years old and just at the age where the thought of fairies and magic seemed less like a real possibility and more just made-up stories, he saw something extraordinary.

A dewdrop on his windowsill. A tiny tiny squirming wriggling button-of a baby left behind on the ledge with the evening breeze chilling it.

It was no bigger than the width of his finger, and made eerie little cries as it rolled around on the sill, crying and waving its tiny tiny hands and feet. 

Naked, the tiny fairy was bare as the day and Cartoonz kneeled before the window to watch and stare. Unsure what to do with something so small..

A tiny voice called out from the garden outside his window, and he had to strain his ears just to hear, “Come on now Delirious! Quit being silly! Just because you tore your clothes playing in spiderwebs doesn’t mean you should act like an infant!”

Another fairy breezes past his window, so fast he’d have missed it if he wasn’t sitting still, and the tiny one on his ledge gets up with a huff, tiny cheeks still puffy.

“I worked hard on those clothes!” The squeaky voice calls out with a huff, and waddles to the edge of the window. Not as young as Cartoonz first thought but, again, not as old as the voice implied.

“Your mom made them for you and you know it,” the other fairy sasses and flies just before the tiniest fairy. “Quit making such a big deal of things.” And reached down to pick the littler fairy up and carry him away.

‘Wait’, Cartoonz mutters inside his head but they are both gone already and the sun is nearly rising and he has to get to bed.

.

He is almost fifteen when the fairy shoes up again, this time with shoddy looking clothing (one sleeve is sewn too short and one too long) and shoes that curl at the toes.

The fairy waits until Cartoonz is laying in bed, pretending to sleep before flying through the window and landing right there on his pillow.

“I like your shirt,” Cartoonz says with closed eyes and the fairy squeaks with surprise and rolls down the sheets.

“Don’t scare me like that you big giant!” The fairy cries and smacks at Cartoonz’s side with all the strength of a fly’s wings brushing past. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

Cartoonz just grins and shifts so he can see the little fairy better. “Sorry,” he says and introduces himself.

“My name is Delirious!” The little fairy cries out, proud of himself.

“Is it really..?” Cartoonz asks, shifting upright in bed and turning on the lamp beside his bed.

“Well..” Delirious admits. “It wasn’t originally, but we get to pick our own when we come of age, and I’ve already chosen mine so..”

“Its a nice name,” Cartoonz agrees and grins back at the fairy when he settles in amongst the blankets.

“I saw you playing some games before through your window,” Delirious grins, bouncing even sitting down he can’t keep still. “Can I play some?”

.

Its become a routine to leave his window open before going to bed, and many a night Cartoonz has woken up to the tiny fairy sitting beside his bed.

The phone usually drained near to empty from Delirious using it so much, playing games, browsing the internet, liking fanart.

“I can get you your own,” Cartoonz offers, almost twenty years old.

“But then why would I come and bother you every night?” Delirious teases and confiscates the phone.

.

He shows up one night wrapped in spiderwebs, and nearly gives Cartoonz a heart attack.

“You were almost eaten!” He cries.

Delirious just stares blankly back at him. “What are you going on about?”

“You got caught in a spiderweb!” Cartoonz cries, and falls to his knees so he can poke his nose right up to Delirious and examine him for bites and bruises. “Please tell me you’re okay..”

“I’m fine you big bully!” Delirious laughs and waves Cartoonz off. “This is for my test. I have to make my own wings. Spider silk make for the best wings.”

“Oh,” Cartoonz droops, still worried. Then looks down at Delirious’ still off-center shirt and pants. “Want me to um, do it for you?”

Delirious laughs and swats at Cartoonz. “You asshole! Don’t you have any faith in me?”

.

It takes many tries, but the final pair of gossamer wings are both delicate and grand in their beauty.

Delirious stands less than a few inches tall, but his wings are just that extra inch taller than him. See-through and stained with the blood of beetles and other paints.

They have a roundish shape and almost seem to droop around him as Delirious flaps them experimentally.

“Wish me luck!” He cries and flys off into the night grinning. Cartoonz crossing his fingers behind him.

.

He worries himself nearly sick, for two days he’s seen neither hide nor hair of Delirious and the fairy has visited his room nearly every day since they’ve first met.

On the third.. A knock comes at his door.

Cartoonz grumbles and gripes, but gets up to answer it eventually. Muttering dark things about the person on the other side of the door until he opens it and there.

Standing there on his front porch is Delirious. Full and human sized and Cartoonz can’t believe his eyes he spins around to make sure this isn’t a joke. “What the hell,” he cries and turns to face Delirious.

But Delirious just laughs, always laughs.

“I told you,” he says, hopping inside the house and past Cartoonz to marvel at seeing things full-sized for the first time that he only ever saw when small.

“I told you I was taking a test.”

“But,” Cartoonz follows slowly behind, gaping and confused. “Wasn’t your test for you to make wings so you could be a fairy?”

Delirious stops where he stands and spins around. “I was already a fairy!” He laughs, in a ‘are you joking’ manner. “The test was to become human.”

Cartoonz can’t quite grasp. “But.. Your wings?”

“I had to leave something behind,” Delirious grins, and steps close to Cartoonz. “Because I wanted to be with you.”

He leans in, still grinning, that ever present smile just barely touching against Cartoonz own and, like the sky just before the sunset.

Like a wildfire in a open field, Cartoonz’s face flames, his cheeks turn red and his eyes widen.

“You..”

“I love you,” Delirious confirms, and leans in again.


	6. chunks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delirious: I've got to go blow Chunks!  
>  Moo: Oh, I hope you feel better Delirious--  
>  [Delirious disconnects]  
>  Next day:  
>  Cartoonz: Did I ever tell you they used to call me Chunks in high school?

Delirious’ voice begins to trail off in mid-laugh, as if his attention is somewhere else entirely. And the game moves on, the chat continues as it ever was, but he is noticeably absent.

“Delirious?” Moo asks gently. “Are you okay?”

There is no response at first, but the rest of the call falls silent to listen in on what comes from Delirious’ mic.

Static mostly, the faint sound of fabric rustling off in the background, and then, finally, the subdued voice of Delirious saying, “ _Yeah_.” Words heavy and slow in his throat as he continues.

“Guys, I’ve gotta go. I’ve got.. “ Something deep beneath the words, something stuck in his throat. “I’ve gotta go blow chunks.”

Moo inhales, starts to say, “I hope you feel better-” but Delirious is already gone, his name missing from the call, silence where his loud laughter once was.

.

It’s not until almost a week later at the panel, when Moo is walking up to Cartoonz, yet still unseen, that he catches the tail end of a very interesting conversation.

“-weird nicknames?” Cartoonz huffs, amused. “Yeah, I used to have one. 

“The last year of high school, I accidentally threw up on the teacher’s desk turning in some homework.” Hearing someone behind him, he turns slightly to glance there, still talking. 

“So everyone started calling me Chunks..”

Moo’s cheeks are rapidly turning red, he’s burning up as the thoughts go bouncing around in his head, making _far_ too much sense.

Cartoonz stops to ask if he’s alright, saying “You look a little green around the gills there.”

“Yeah,” Moo mutters. “I think I might go blow some..” Trailing off, his face burning up with embarrassment.

Cartoonz opens his mouth, about to ask, when it hits him and his breathing stops and his eyes go wide.


	7. Lunch Break

There’s still a piece of wood tucked, gently in a tuft of hair over Jonathan’s ear. Like he placed it there to save for later use.

Sawdust all down the nape of his neck and trailing over his back, where he couldn’t reach to brush it off. His shirt smells like sweat and cut lumber, but he looks at home in the airplane assembly yard.

Luke is covered in grease, still trying to reassemble a part and only paying him half his mind as he asks what’s up.

“Come on,” Jon says, “It’s lunch time! Let’s go!”

“I’m so close to finishing,” Luke protests, but Jonathan’s already grabbed him by the hand and started dragging him off.

He manages to drop the wrench he was holding before he gets pulled out the door and presented with the mess that’s become of Jon’s truck.

What was once just a barely dented pickup with scratches of paint peeling off the sides is now a portable sawmill.

“And where am I supposed to sit?” Luke protests when he sees the piles of tools and wood that occupy the majority of the vehicle. “On the roof?”

Jon seems to be actually considering the suggestion, much to Luke’s distress, so the man continues with “What do you even need that much wood for anyway?”

“Hey!” Jonathan protests. “It’s good wood! And here, you can squeeze your ass in here, just don’t crack the cedar or I’ll kick your ass.”

Opening the side door and carefully restacking saw files and short pieces of resin wood until there’s room enough. The cedar he slides closer to the driver’s side so, when he runs to the other side and jumps in, he can keep one hand on it to hold it in place.

Luke grumbles, but his stomach grumbles louder, so he hops in and shuts the door. Carefully wedging his legs between the two chainsaws on the floor and careful not to knock either one over.

Jonathan pulls out of the parking lot, and off they go for fast food and lunch. Radio playing in the background and their sweat sticky arms hanging out the windows.


	8. the things we leave out

From a thousand miles away the call comes through, it’s well past three am, but Luke doesn’t hesitate to pick up. Cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder as he unlocks the hotel room.

“ _Did you make it?_ ” Is the grainy voice of a sleep-riddled Jonathan.  


“Nope, my plane crashed and burned and I died in the impact. This is my ghost speaking to you right now,” Luke sasses as he kicks the door shut behind him, dropping his bags on the floor on his way to the bed.

“ _Asshole_.” Is split with a short giggle.   


Luke falls backwards onto the bed with a _huff_ , the springs squeaking underneath him. Blinking the sleep away as he smiles at the celing.

“What are you still doing up this late?”   


The reply is almost a whisper, but the phone is close to his ear so Luke hears very well, “ _It feels like you’re a thousand miles away..”  
_

He is so tired that even his bones are sore, and his body has already begun the inevitable sinking into the bed, but the hardest thing to fight to stay awake is the soothing lullabye of Jonathan’s voice.

“I _t’s already too quiet here without you,_ ” He continues. “ _I miss your big head knocking on my door.”  
_

“Go to sleep,” Luke mutters, eyes half-shut. “Its, what, almost five there..?”

The mattress is stiff and squeaks with every shifting movement, like an old man crying out. Nothing close to comfortable, but still not enough to keep him awake.

“ _Just about,”_ Jonathan murmurs. “ _But, how did it go? Your flight? Did you meet anyone yet?”  
_

Luke takes a second longer to reply, yawning. “Not yet, you could have come too, ya know?” He covers his mouth with his wrist and yawns again. “But tell me about your day. How was the dog?“  


” _He misses you too,“_ is the soft response. _“I can’t wait until you come back home._ ” Barely beneath his words.

But he keeps talking, speaking all about every little thing that happened during the day, from the dog running away to going out to get the mail five minutes too early and having to go right back out again. 

Until Luke loses the battle he was silently fighting and begins to drift off, his breath deep and even. The voice in his ear soothing him into a deep slumber.

_“I miss you too, teammate.”_


	9. waiting

Jonathan was sitting at the bus stop, the one at the corner of Franklin and Elm that sees little movement beyond the sway of the trees as the breeze blows past them. The seat was hard from disuse and had an overwhelming scent to it of dust and age.

He shifted forward and tried to reach into his pocket to pull out his phone, but his hands were half numb from the cold. They wouldn’t move the way they ought to, and trying to get them in his pocket only resulted in his fingers stinging from scrapping against the rough fabric of his jeans.

He tried again, and managed to finally get a grip on his phone only by thrusting his hand harshly against his pocket and clawing his way in. He pulled his phone out, and into his lap. His knuckles were sore, the cold only highlighting the pain ten-fold.

“Where are you, Luke?” He mutters as he hits the button to turn the phone on. The screen lights up, and his finger slides across the screen to unlock it.

But there isn’t enough body heat in him to register, and the screen goes dark again. The case is cold and heavy in his hands, a dead weight, and he brings it all close to his mouth to breathe against. Hoping the hot air would warm them up.  


“Luke..” he mutters, and hits the button to turn on the phone again. His hands tremble with the chill that’s running in his veins like blood, and he tries once again to unlock the screen.

He taps, and taps again, and until finally it registers.

There is only one number he wants to call, its always at the top of the list, and it should be easy to get to, but his fingers have already lost what little warmth they had collected and the screen goes dark again.

Swearing, he tosses the phone aside (where it thumps onto the seat beside him) and elects to wait.

The wind kicks up again, he wants to go _home_ , to sleep and get warm, but he is all alone for miles and miles. The night is oppressive and dark, a solid thing hanging around him and separating him from the rest of the world.

“Luke, come on..” he mutters, knowing he won’t be heard, and pulls his hands inside his shirt. He leans forward into himself until he’s almost curled into a ball, his body clenches involuntarily and his legs cramp as they tighten against the seat.  


He shoves his hands under his armpits, hoping for one last bit of heat to save him. The fear that consumes him leaves sweat at the back of his neck, where the wind catches and freezes, and under his arms.

There his hands stick, and he trembles as he slowly rocks, trying to keep warm.  


“I want to go home.” But the night is long, and no one else is there.

.

He wakes up, warm. His head is heavy against a softness that cushions him, threatens to devour him. His eyes refuse to open, and heat billows into his face as if he is in a hurricane of warmth.

There is a weight against his side, something heavy holding him down, pressing into him.

The world bumps, and he is shifted further into what he lays on. He fights to open his eyes, it is an indescribable battle, he is too warm, too comfortable. Too close to sleep.

A murmur crawls out of him as he tries to speak. There is a sigh against his side, and he manages to slit one eye open in time to see the heavy hand that was resting against his waist raise up, and press his head back down.

Jonathan tries to blink the sleep away. He can see a console, a dashboard.. the window through which the road advances rapidly upon him. It makes his head hurt so he turns and buries his face into soft warmth.

Cotton and cologne.

Jonathan recognizes the rhythm of the road, the thump thump thrum of the tires as they roll down the street.

He knows what shirt he’s been pressed into. Who is holding him carefully against their side, who gently pressed his head back down as if to say, ‘Go back to sleep’.

Who has the heat going so full-blast that he can smell the man’s sweat overpowering the cologne.

“You idiot,” Luke murmurs as Jonathan falls back to sleep, content in his safety. His hand curls where it had fallen, against Luke’s side, just barely touching the fabric.


	10. face reveal

“As promised, for my 50 million subscribers video, a face reveal!” Fading from black Delirious’ voice continues talking as the camera attempts to focus.

“You guys have been so patient for so long, so here I am!” The shot is of the ceiling, off-white stucco.

The image keeps bouncing, then Cartoonz says clearly, “Delirious get off of me!” 

The video blurs as it moves too fast to fully capture anything, until it settles on the ground, on a pair of grey sneakers.

“I’m doing a face reveal Cartoonz!” Delirious giggles. 

“I know, I fucking heard you,” Cartoonz has to be rolling his eyes but on screen the only thing moving is the shot back and forth across the carpet as the camera’s shaken.

“Look, its Cartoonz! Face reveal for Cartoonz!” His voice is giddy with laughter.

“Hey, stop licking my ear!” Cartoonz snorts as he pushes the camera away.

A loud smack of lips on skin.

“I love you, man.” And then more smacks.

“I love you too.”

“Totally not gay though.”

“Definitely not.” The shot of the carpet fades to black again and over the sound of Delirious’ _‘why’d you slip me tongue then’_ a final “Did you know you had the camera upside down?” is heard from Cartoonz.


	11. Walking the Dog

Mist lays before the morning, naked against the fog that sweeps, lightly, into Jonathan’s back porch.

A cold settles in on his skin as Luke stands there, barefoot on the deck in just a pair of boxers and an old shirt, his back to the house.

The dawn has come and pass, but still haze lingers about the edges of the yard. Drawing the world surreal, like a haunting. And leaving him feeling as if he was a stranger in the world before him.

> **_The way you said “I love you”._ **

Still rough from sleep, you sit on the countertop and wait in your underwear, chest tight in the cold and legs kicking beneath you. If only Luke could see you, your ass where the food gets laid, you’d the be one getting chewed up that’s for certain.

But instead he’s outside walking the dog. Where the world is hazy at the edges and full of fog.

There is a chill in the air and it seeps through the warmth surrounding your fingers as you lift the cup to your mouth and blow the steam away. Sipping on your coffee and watching out the glass door.

Luke has an old shirt on, one you can remember seeing last on your bedroom floor when you fell asleep, and the collar is falling apart at the seams already. The strands stand out against the light.

> _**With a hoarse voice beneath the sheets.** _

“Come on, Dude!” Luke yells, his hands cupped around his mouth and goosebumps trailing up and down his arms from the cold.

The dog is all the way at the edge of the yard, nose to the ground and tail high in the air, sniffing. The tip of his tail wags when he hears Luke call, but still he keeps wandering in small circles. 

The yard is fenced in and the dog can’t escape, but still he roams. Following a trail through the dirt that only his nose can find. Almost blurring at the seams he’s so deep into the fog, just looking for a place to pee.

Luke slips his hands beneath the waistband of his underwear, where there is warmth, and hunches his shoulders in around himself, shivering.

> _**And a small one when others could hear.** _

The cup is cold and empty in your hands, and your eyes grow as heavy as your legs, still beneath you.

It’s all to easy to give in to sleep. 

To let your head drift down and rest against your chest.

And slip, weightless, into the world of dreams.

> _**Threading your fingers into mine.** _

Dude barks as bounds back to the house, kicking the dirt behind him as he runs. 

He moves fast and is almost on Luke before the man can say “Good boy!” Kneeling down just in time to catch the dog in his arms, hugging and petting him amidst the kisses he receives.

Giving the dog’s head one final scratch, he pats him and stands back up. “Lets go,” he grins, and turns to walk back inside.

And sees Jonathan sitting there, just beyond the glass doors. Bare chested, only a worn pair of briefs between his ass cheeks and the smooth surface of the counter.

Jonathan’s head is dropping into his chest, fast asleep, and Luke takes two quick strides until he’s at the glass door.

> _**Whispering to me when I fall asleep.** _

**BAM**. 

The sound wakes you immediately.

Startled, you desperately look around for the source of the noise only to see Luke standing there, on the other side of the glass doors. 

His nose and face pressing indents on the surface, his hands wide beside his head, and glaring at you.

 _“Get your ass off that counter!”_ He yells, and the sight of all startles you so much that you slip, butt cheeks squeaking as they slide down, your arm flails out for support but all you can grab onto is the bowl of fruit that was sitting beside you.

Pears fly through the air as you fall behind the counter.

> **_Letting me know you’ll never leave._ **


	12. Werewolf AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Asked by Anonymous:] Delitoonz and an Werewolf AU?
> 
> (I was imagining pachihiro on tumblr's werewolf au..)

A low rumble woke him from sleep, one of such a timber that Delirious’ chest vibrated from the mere force of it. He blinked bleary eyes but the darkness was oppressive and too thick to see through.

“Wha..?” He muttered, shifting upright on the bed. “What is it?”

**thump  
thump**

And then again, and again, faster and faster like drums being stuck against the wall. The whole house vibrated from the sheer force of it.

“Cartoonz,” Delirious calls out.

A high pitched wine pierces the air and cracks the windowpane beside his bed.

“You want a walkie?” He chirps, still rubbing his eyes and trying to wake up.

**THUMP**

And this great mangy beast crashes into him, shoving him off the bed (and upturning the bed itself), and covering him with kisses, tongue easily as big as a kitchen frying pan.

The thumps of his tail sweep the mattress back and forth across the floor.

**“BOOF!”**

.


	13. Merry Christmas

 

The softest whisper of winter slipped in through the cracks in the window and bit at Jonathan’s toes as he walked down the hallway. Still dressed in the clothes he fell asleep in; a baggy pair of sweats and an old shirt that hung too far past his waist.

“I’ll tell him Momma,” he hears coming from the kitchen where sweet smells and warm light await him. “Uh huh. Yeah, we promise. Love you too.”

His feet still shuffle when he walks, he hasn’t fully awoken yet and the world slips by slowly, caught as he is still in the dreams of waking. Where everything is hazy and he has to blink just to keep himself awake.

But it’s Christmas morning and it’s too late to go back to sleep, so he ambles down the hallway to where the warm smell of coffee awaits him.

And there, standing in the doorway with a warm cup in one hand and a phone pressed to his ear with the other is Luke. Smiling and nodding along as he listens to the other end of the call.

Jonathan steps close and leans into Luke with his full body weight, pressing into the other man’s side. Sliding his fingers around the cup in Luke’s hand he rests his chin on his shoulder and whispers.

Right up against his ear, soft warm breath, _“..my momma or yours..?”  
_

Strings of tiny lights line the wall just beneath the ceiling, leaving a gentle glow that just barely lights up the corners of Luke’s face as he turns and presses a gentle kiss to Jonathan’s brow.

“Sounds good, Momma,” Luke adds to his side of the conversation, softly fluttering his eyes closed when his forehead touches Jonathan’s. His smile is a part of him that keeps him warm from within and it spreads from his face to Jonathan’s.

“We’ll be over there at eight then.” 

Jonathan’s hands hold the coffee and Luke at the same time and he isn’t quite sure which one is leaving him closer to sleep but if he leaned any harder against the other boy he would be a part of him.

His eyes shut, too much to keep open, as he considers the possibility.

 _“Love you too,”_ Luke drawls, speaking to both of them at once.


	14. Holiday

“Where’s Cartoonz?” Bryce asked as he looked around the previously occupied room. “He was just here a second ago..”

Ohm just shrugs, his mouth too full of cookies to answer without spilling them everywhere.

“Yeah!” Bryce shouts as if agreeing to something Ohm said. “And where’d Delirious get off to too? You think they’re playing hooky somewhere..?”

Ohm just rolls his eyes and mutters something that sounds vaguely like “bee hive knee” through the food in his mouth and tackles Bryce onto the couch.

“What the hell man!” Bryce yells but is soon bursting out with giggles as his sides get tickled. “Stop! Stop it! I’m going to pee!”

Ohm just grins and keeps up his assault, ignoring the way the Christmas tree across from them sways heavily back and forth for just a moment.

.

  
Delirious tries to keep his moans low and sparse, but Cartoonz is massaging his ass and pushing him back into the tree, making the ornaments jingle dangerously over the carpet.

“Stop,” he kisses between kisses.

“Stop what?” Cartoonz murmurs lips pressed against the smooth surface of his neck.  His arms slip from squeezing Delirious’ ass and instead wrap around his waist.

He picks Delirious up with little effort, and sets him against his hips where Delirious’ long legs and arms quickly manage to wrap around him.

Delirious presses himself in snug and tight as he smiles a terrible grin, full of dark promises and suggestions. Grinding himself slowly against the telling that he’s pressed against.

Cartoonz groans and grabs onto the tree for support. The heat of the fireplace behind him burning up his back, and the warmth wrapped around his front doing him in.

.

And all that could be made out of them from the other side as the tree shook again, was part of someone’s leg. Someone leaning far too close into the branches to be made out easily.


	15. Mini Fics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three unconnected snippets made at seperate times but that are too short to post on their own.

Luke sleeps on the right side of the bed, up against the wall where he can feel the cold air from outside chilling the wood of the house. Jonathan pressed into his back, small breaths moving through his chest. Arms wrapped around his waist.

In summer, when they have no reason to use body heat as an excuse to cuddle, Luke sleeps on the left. One hand dangling from the bed, face pressed flat into the pillow.

With Jonathan’s fingers curling, gently, into the open hand he leaves across the bed.

 

* * *

  

Delirious and Cartoonz are walking down the street.

“Be careful,” Cartoonz says. “There are a lot of cars, you’d better hold my hand.”

“Alright.” Delirious shoves a fist down the front of Cartoonz’ pants.

“.. that’s not my hand, Delirious.”

“I’m holding something.” He grins back.

 

* * *

  

“I can do better,” he swears, still on the ladder, still painting as far as he can reach.

The wall is covered in vines and violets, all curled about and intertwined with each other, reaching from floor to ceiling. It’s massive, so much so that there is nothing else in the room you can see but this.

“Stop, Jonathan, this is good enough.” Luke says from underneath the ladder, looking up at him. “You don’t have to do any more.”

“I need more,” he mutters, and climbs higher until he is balanced across the tallest part of the ladder, laying across it as if it were a bridge to support him.


	16. affection

.

The kisses are slow, and pepper down the back of his neck to where his shirt ends and the faintest of breezes brush over his skin. The slightest of chills from the air cast aside by the ceiling fan and then his skin is lightning.

It streaks through him, the burning want, need for affection. He is a heated pot, boiling over, shifting under the covers of the bed as he tries not to wake up but Jonathan is insistent in his affections.

Luke covers his eye with one hand, as if by blocking out the light his body would be able to cool back down.

“It’s too early,” he grumbles at the boy wrapped around his back. “Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t,” is whispered into his ear. “I gotta piss like a race horse and you’re on my arm.”

A very hot and wet tongue slowly traces the outline of his ear, sending shivers down his back.

Luke grumbles and shifts a little bit foward, still stuck between sleep and waking.

Then Jonathan is tugging at his earlobe with his teeth, soft scratches before pulling it into his too warm mouth and he’s sucking like a demon and every nerve ending Luke has is on fire and okay, he’s definitely awake now.

“You ass,” he says as he rolls over onto his face and the warm lump beneath his side is tugged sharply away from him and gone.

The only reply being the slam of the bathroom door.

He can’t get back to sleep now, every time he closes his eyes his body begins to tingle again with the slightest sensation of being touched, but every time he opens them again he’s still laying there, alone, on the bed.

The minutes tick by on the clock, until his head is full with the sound of it.


	17. confession

“Hold it tigher!” Delirious yells as he grips frantically to the wobbling ladder. “I’m going to fall!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Cartoonz grabs the ladder again, but he can’t help the growing space between his fingers and the ladder. Delirious is standing just a few rungs above him and, ah, every time he shifts across the top step, that ass so nicely outlined in skintight jeans comes closer and closer to Cartoonz’s face.

Cartoonz fiercely shuts his eyes, as if by closing them so tightly he could keep the mental images out.

“Bitch!” Delirious swears as he tries again to hang the banner. But his foot slips and he slides backwards off the ladder, a sudden cry of surprise the only warning.

Cartoonz freezes, he’s caught up in his own thoughts and doesn’t come out in time to react properly. He lets go of the ladder and has enough sense to raise his arms before Delirious lands on his face.

Literally.

Delirious is sprawled out on top of him and trying to get himself upright, his hands just beginning to find purchase when by chance he looks down, and Cartoonz looks up.

Chest heavy with the weight of denial, his heart grows hotter at every breath that brushes across his face.

The words just.. slip out.

“Fuck I’m gay.”


	18. Stargazing

“Do you think we’ll ever get married?” Jonathan wonders out loud from his perch on the hood of Luke’s pickup truck. His arms are crossed behind his head and the cool sting of metal beneath him sends chills down his spine. But he is perfectly content to just lay there and watch the stars above pass him by.

Luke is sitting upright, his legs dangle over the front of the truck and the backs of his heels kick a pattern against the truck’s grill.

 _Maybe._ They say. _Maybe.._

“Maybe you,” Luke laughs, head titled back so far to count the sky his neck makes a perfect arch. He is a line of angles and degrees, from his body to his legs to his arms to the truck.

“Maybe you,” He continues, stretching, rolling his shoulders and sliding further up the truck’s hood. “But I’ll never get married. Nope.”

“No one wants an old foggy like you,” Jonathan giggles to himself as he looks for Orion’s Belt. His hands are beginning to fall asleep, pinched as they are under his head, so he slides them out and stretches.

“And what? You’re such a hot catch yourself?” Luke teases, glancing back over his shoulder.

“I am the _hottest_ catch out there, baby!” Jonathan gestures to the sky, then giggling, lets his hands fall back down.

Luke can’t help the amusement from burning across his face. His cheeks are warm against the night’s chill. His eyes clearer than the sky as he closes them against the laughter that bubbles up within him.

“You’re some kind of catch, alright,” Luke mutters, and reaches for Jonathan.

He doesn’t have to go far, his right side is being kept warm by the heat Jonathan puts off merely by existing. 

As he grins over his shoulder and offers his hand Jonathan grabs the offered palm with a devil-may-care smirk and tugs Luke down against the truck.

“Let’s _never_ get married,” he vows, and squeezes Luke’s fingers tight in a grip that promises to always be there.

Luke can’t help the huff of laughter that slips out of him, more a joyous breath of air than any real sound, and closes his fingers around Jonathan’s.

“Sure,” he promises. Holding his hand.

And counts the stars with his best friend.


	19. waiting

The radio is turned down low, the melody a constant and repeating hum beneath the voices that fill the diner and surround their table. They are an island in the midst of the current of sound that sweeps past them.

Jonathan is sitting in the space next to the window, leaning against the glass where his back is warmed by the sun and his eyes droop slowly shut.

The table is small, there is barely any room between them and if Luke reached a hand out right now he could brush aside the stray lock of hair falling across Jonathan’s eye.

But his hands stay where they are, warmed by fragments of the sun. He tucks his legs under the chair and rests his elbows on the table, ignoring the barest brush against his back as a stranger passes by.

He is warm and content here, the calls of the cook and waitress echo back and forth behind him, a background noise that lulls him.


	20. mini-shots

Luke sleeps on the right side of the bed, up against the wall where he can feel the cold air from outside chilling the wood of the house. Jonathan pressed into his back, small breaths moving through his chest. Arms wrapped around his waist.

In summer, when they have no reason to use body heat as an excuse to cuddle, Luke sleeps on the left. One hand dangling from the bed, face pressed flat into the pillow.

With Jonathan’s fingers curling, gently, into the open hand he leaves across the bed.

 

* * *

 

But. Being here, and in the moment of now. Luke’s hand gently touching against the back of his was a comfort he sometimes dearly needed.

 

* * *

 

Delirious and Cartoonz are walking down the street.

“Be careful,” Cartoonz says. “There are a lot of cars, you’d better hold my hand.”

“Alright.” Delirious shoves a fist down the front of Cartoonz’ pants.

“.. that’s not my hand, Delirious.”

“I’m holding something.” He grins back.


End file.
